


Lookout

by carrionkid



Category: Marvel (Comics), Wolverine and the X-Men (Comics), X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Ableism, Autism Spectrum, Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 18:56:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7373557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carrionkid/pseuds/carrionkid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a little fic where Evan is autistic and oblivious and still thinks people in the world are usually nice. Quentin's an asshole, but not as much of an asshole as he could be; he also promises to fight everyone.<br/>--<br/>Quentin’s sitting in class, staring at the kid in the corner and very definitely ignoring the textbook he’s supposed to be reading. The kid’s a splitting image of Apocalypse, if Apocalypse was a prepubescent boy. He’s sitting cross legged on the floor with his back to the wall and the textbook open on the floor; he’s also rocking back and forth slightly and chewing on a pendant Quentin hasn’t seen before.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Lookout

Quentin’s sitting in class, staring at the kid in the corner and very definitely ignoring the textbook he’s supposed to be reading. The kid’s a splitting image of Apocalypse, if Apocalypse was a prepubescent boy. He’s sitting cross legged on the floor with his back to the wall and the textbook open on the floor; he’s also rocking back and forth slightly and chewing on a pendant Quentin hasn’t seen before.

 

Quentin’s gotta admit, the kid’s got guts. Quentin stims all the time, but subtly. He taps his feet or bounces his legs or chews on his fingernails. He doesn’t feel comfortable doing anything bigger than those little stims, not that he’d ever admit it. Besides, rocking in the middle of class would totally kill his punk cred. 

 

He’s mentally kicking himself though, and he kind of regrets picking on the kid. He’d never even considered that Evan’s monotone voice and weird quirks were anything other than side effects of being the fucked up test-tube baby of Apocalypse. And, you know, the fact that he was a kid from Middle-Of-Nowhere, Kansas. Yeah, Quentin’s an asshole, but he’s not an  _ ableist  _ asshole.

 

The bell rings and Evan freezes, he closes his textbook and wipes the saliva off of his necklace before tucking it back under his dress shirt. He stands up and holds the book tight to his chest. Quentin’s still working on shoving all of his notes and pens into his messenger bag. 

 

Just outside of the door, in the hallway before the lockers, a girl with thick purple scales stops Evan. Quentin can hear the question before she even opens her mouth to speak.

“What’s wrong with you? Are you, like, autistic or something?” She sneers down at Evan. It’s like watching a train about to hit a car, Quentin thinks. Evan just smiles and and sways back and forth slightly.

 

“I am! How did you know?” Evan answers clear as day and Quentin can’t help but wince; this kid’s gonna get eaten alive here. He decides it’s time to intervene; he steps out into the hall and stands next to Evan. He’s still shorter than Kid Apocalypse, but he stands tall with his shoulders back.

 

“Fuck off, Scales! We all know that you’re just doing this because you have a fucked up sense of self esteem.” She scoffs and turns around, marching off down the hallway. Quentin wraps his arm around Evan’s shoulder; Evan flinches away.

 

“Shit, sorry, I should’ve asked you before doing that.” Quentin instantly draws his hands back and holds them up in the air.

 

“It’s okay… Just strange,” Evan looks at Quentin blankly. His mind gives off an accepting feeling, regardless of his neutral expression. 

 

“Come with me, kid,” Quentin gestures for him to follow, “You clearly need someone to look out for you here.”

 

“Oh, uh, thanks!” Evan smiles, squeezing his eyes shut and bringing his hands up in front of his chest. He bounces up on the balls of his feet, making himself even taller than he already is. 

 

“I don’t know how they do it in Kansas, but New York probably isn’t gonna be so accepting of all that stuff you do.”

 

“They won’t?” Evan’s expression drops, “That’s not very nice…”

 

“No, it isn’t,” Quentin agrees, “But just let me know if someone gives you shit for it and I’ll make their life miserable.”

 

“Okay,” Evan nods twice, “I need to get to Mutant Lit 101 now.” He turns off to the next classroom. After he’s gone, Quentin takes a second to smile to himself before heading off to Extreme Sports: Phys. Ed. For The New Age. 


End file.
